


Real Men Darn Their Own Stockings (Amongst Other Things)

by Sans_Souci



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Canon Genderbending, Community: norsekink, Crack, Crossdressing, F/M, Gen, Humor, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sans_Souci/pseuds/Sans_Souci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows that Thor's a manly Asgardian--it's just that things are different on Midgard now. The Avengers find out just how different through an odyssey of embroidery, pedicures and little black dresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Men Darn Their Own Stockings (Amongst Other Things)

**Author's Note:**

> For [this](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/10823.html?thread=23377479#t23377479) prompt on norsekink. 
> 
> Butch Asgardian habits are considered girly on Earth. (Which is completely overturned when you look at history's manly men and their bathing regimes.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Downtime, Tony Stark reflected, was boring but it allowed him time to refine the latest improvements to his suit. And propose new ideas to Clint about trick arrows.

“Silly string has its uses,” Clint admitted as they emerged from his workshop. “For detecting tripwires, sure, but I’d have to fire the arrow right a--”

He was momentarily arrested by the sight of Thor, clad only in a short tunic, mending his own clothes in the spacious living room that served as a communal gathering area for certain people who sometimes wandered in and out of Stark Tower.

“Thor, your drawers are showing,” Tony said in a mock whisper. The sight of a Norse god slash space alien from another dimension was not new, but the sewing was.

“I know--I am currently ‘dressing down’ as you call so quaintly put it,” Thor said placidly. “Captain Rogers is assisting me in sourcing some thread--ah, here he is.”

“I could only find this shade of red, Thor,” Steve called as he entered with a few spools of said thread. “JARVIS has some supplies, but not the full range. Hi Tony, Clint.” 

“Whoa, hey, we have sewing supplies?” Tony asked, mildly surprised but not really because he had built JARVIS to be a proactive AI.

“ _Ms. Potts said to have some on hand in case of a fashion emergency, sir._ ” The AI was ever present to provide assistance. “ _I offered the use of the sewing machine, but Sir Thor preferred to do it by hand._ ”

“And I thanked the good JARVIS for his concern, but only needed his help to thread the needle.” Thor’s charming insistence on referring to JARVIS as Tony’s good servant seemed to be reciprocated by the AI.

“Why does your technologically advanced--yet curiously rooted in antique notions like magic--civilisation still do some stuff the old way?”

“Maybe they haven’t discovered any better way yet?” Wandering approximately in the direction of the refrigerator, Bruce walked in with his nose in a tablet. 

“The good doctor is correct!” Thor declared. “And there’s nothing wrong with a little hard work.”

“I’m having this wonderful image of a whole bunch of butch Vikings sitting around the campfire at night, mending their own undies.” Tony always felt the need to share his thoughts and this time, he promptly infected everyone else with them. 

Clint coughed to hide his laugh.

“But that is so, Anthony! We do not bring washerwomen and seamstresses on campaigns. Nor do we send our breeks home for our mothers to mend,” Thor said, brows drawing close at the thought of such slovenly behaviour. “Tis a poor man who does not know how to darn a stocking, much less hammer the dents out of his own helm.”

“I think that’s a commendable attitude to have,” Steve said. “Every man had to take care of their own kit and uniform in the war.”

“They still have to,” Clint chipped in. “At least the ones worth their salt do.”

Bruce shrugged when they looked at him. “I just have a lot of extra shirts, pants and belts. They’re usually beyond repair after the Other Guy is done with them.”

“But why are you dressed like that?” Tony wanted to know. “I am mostly heterosexual with a healthy dose of bi-curiosity and the sight of your manly thighs does not offend, but are you in need of a pair of sweatpants?”

“No, Starkson, this is merely what I wear when I am at ease,” Thor said with a laugh. 

“Like shorts and a singlet?”

“That would be the closest comparison. Apologies, my friends, I will need to leave you soon.”

This was enough to perk Tony’s interest again. “You’ve got an appointment?”

Thor gathered up his cloak, his clothes and his thread. “The Lady Natasha has graciously invited me to visit a Midgardian spa.”

“What? One of those girly things with the face-masks and pedicures?” Tony asked, incredulous. He shrugged as every eye turned to him. “Pepper keeps trying to get me to go.”

“You should allow the lady to take you, Anthony. I hear that there are a wonderful range of relaxing treatments that include steam baths and massages.” Thor looked positively rapturous as he described the delights of the spa.

“I had no idea you liked that stuff, Thor.” Electronic journals forgotten, Bruce looked up contemplatively. “I tried massages once. I’m personally not so keen on them.”

“And have you tried the sauna? It can be a fine communal activity as well.”

“That means everyone naked in a steamy room together,” Tony said, more to see Steve’s reaction than anything else. “Sweating. In a very masculine fashion. _Together_.”

“It’s probably traditional,” Bruce informed him before their noble leader started to splutter. “The first saunas were Finnish in origin.”

“It promotes cleanliness--both in body and in mind. I heartily recommend it!” With that, Thor was off, the backs of his muscular thighs rippling as he climbed the stairs. 

“We need to discuss the matter of _underwear_ some other day, Thor!” Tony called after him.

“Well,” he said to no-one in particular--mainly because the others were trying to clear their retinas of that last image. “That was a revelation. Space Vikings darn their own socks and are big on communal saunas.”

Bruce held up his tablet--he had been industriously researching rather than focusing on bared thighs. “Why not? The Vikings were into bathing and hair care.”

“Thor does have great hair,” Clint said contemplatively. “Tony, why don’t you have a sauna?”

“I rebuilt it into a bathroom-bar. Hey, I could put it back in again. JARVIS--make a note. Put in a new sauna.”

“ _Yes, sir. A dry or wet sauna?_ ”

“We’ll do both,” Tony decided. “It’ll go nicely with the Jacuzzi. Energy efficient in-house spa! Seriously, you guys don’t know what you’re missing out on.” 

“You haven’t let us use your Jacuzzi before,” Bruce pointed out.

“Whoopsie--my bad. JARVIS, fire up the hot-tub, we’re going in. Hold the go-go dancers,” Tony added before Steve could protest. “Good clean fun.”

“We’re wearing swimming trunks,” Steve said at last.

“That’s taking all the macho fun out of it!”

“Trunks,” Steve said firmly.

“Okay, just as long as it’s not your tighty-whiteys. It’s the first step anyway.”

“Why didn’t I get invited to the spa?” Clint asked the empty air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pleasures of the _banya_ could be replicated after all at the Oasis Spa and Treatment Centre. Or at least it could with enough money for the top packages on offer.

Natasha leaned back and looked forward to enjoying her time off. Without interruptions by terrorists, supervillains or aliens from another dimension.

Though she was introducing the alien from another dimension that was currently sitting next to her to the joys of frivolous Earth cleaning rituals.

“I have missed this.” Wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe, Thor regarded the footbath in which his feet were soaking in contentedly. Flower petals floated around his toes as he wriggled them about. 

“Oh?” This was her--rare--day off, but Natasha never neglected an opportunity to gather intel. They had just finished a face-mask and full-body massage session after the steam bath and sea-salt scrub--Thor had taken to it all with surprising relish.

“Indeed--my brother and I used to comb each other’s hair after bathing.” Thor looked nostalgic as he fiddled with the remote control that would make the footbath vibrate, bubble or do the Macarena--these things were pretty advanced now. “He had such fine hair . . .”

“That’s . . . you were very close.” The thing about Thor and Loki was, they were alien princes from another dimension. One could not apply Earth logic to their relationship. Or so Natasha told herself on a regular basis to remain sane.

“We were.” Thor let out a gusty sigh. “He would wear the silk robe I had embroidered for his name-day gift and take me to task about my split-ends.”

Sometimes, some intel was just too much information.

“You do embroidery.” Natasha was intrigued in spite of herself. And the pampering had made her relax just a fraction. She was still capable of springing into action and taking out would-be assailants with a comb at the drop of a fancy-schmancy hat, but this was probably girl-talk time.

“Well, of course. Most warriors do it in their spare time. It is not a sincere gift if the giver did not spend hours embroidering some part of it themselves,” Thor explained. “A family crest at the very least. A border of battle-axes if they could manage it.”

“Battle-axes.”

“If it was a present for a lover or a courting gift, an appropriate pattern would be considered. I do like battle-hammers.” When Natasha turned her head to look at her companion, Thor appeared rather misty-eyed. “Loki embroidered a saddlecloth for me with a motif of Mjölnir all around the edges once.”

“. . .”

“He did like Mjölnir’s symmetry.”

“. . .” Natasha pressed the buzzer to summon their manicurist and pedicurist. Some things, she was not actually equipped to deal with. Not without a shot of vodka and a French pedicure.

In the depths of her locker, her SHIELD-issue mobile phone blinked once as a text message was received.

_Tasha, can I come next time?_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The threat this time was damage to cultural properties. Terrorists were getting more desperate and correspondingly more creative. The new exhibition at the Met had been targeted according to an anonymous tip and the Avengers were assembled to scope the place out incognito at the opening gala.

“What was this in aid of again?” Tony asked Pepper in a whisper as they swept up the red carpet and smiled for the cameras.

“Bilateral relations. It’s the special exhibit called _Three Thousand Years of Anglo-British History_ ,” Pepper replied. “Isn’t it overkill to have your team here in civvies?”

“Not _my_ team. Fury’s team--and he’s taking it seriously.” Tony looked around for the nearest waiter carrying drinks. “Ah--champagne for the lady and I’ll have the strongest thing you’ve got.”

“Tony! I thought you weren’t supposed to drink on the job,” Pepper admonished. But she took the flute of bubbly that he handed her anyway.

“I need it for when the vultures attack,” Tony muttered, steeling himself for the inevitable pack of brownnosers, journalists and industry fat-cats that would descend upon him soon. 

His roving eye caught sight of Natasha and Clint, looking very dandy as a couple dressed to kill--quite literally. Bruce and Thor were instantly noticeable in their suits as they were some of the few people who were actually interested in the exhibits rather than finger-foods and schmoozing. Also, Nordic god in black tie--the ladies were definitely looking his way.

Drink in one hand and Pepper’s hand in the other, Tony wandered closer, curious despite himself.

“Hmm, shows promise--a little rough around the edges though,” Thor said as he cast a critical eye over the tapestries on the wall. “Needs more detail. The warrior who did this needs remedial courses in embroidery and a sound talking to from his mother.”

“Thor, this is a reproduction of the Bayeux Tapestry. It depicts the Norman conquest of England and was probably commissioned by a bishop,” Bruce explained as Clint and Natasha looked over at what they were so interested in. “It’s likely the work of a group of skilled seamsters.” 

“But were these seamsters on the battlefield?” Thor asked with a cunning gleam in his eye.

“Not that I know of . . .”

“Then how could they report of the slain and those who were victorious?” Thor said it as though this was an obvious fact. “It would be _false reporting_ , as you say. An Asgardian warrior would be honoured to embroider the likenesses of his slain enemies on a table runner--all the better to show off his deeds during feasts.”

“And cause everyone to lose their appetites,” Tony muttered to Pepper.

“Hey,” Clint said to Natasha in a whisper. “What’s a table runner and why do Norse gods have them?”

Fortunately for them all, they were interrupted the shattering of glass and the evening really kicked off then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had time off for being good little Avengers and preventing the vandalism and or destruction of three thousand years worth of priceless cultural artefacts. Though the reproduction of the Bayeux Tapestry might have suffered a little stretching here and there. Acceptable losses all around.

Thor liked movies with battles. And documentaries about rescued cats and dogs. Which was why he was watching _Braveheart_ on cable for their weekly movie night (so long as they were not on call). Clint usually got too emotional over the rescued cats and dogs and had to go sit by himself afterwards. Fortunately for all involved, Bruce did not find fictionalised violence rage-inducing--just sad.

“Hah! The ritual taunting of the enemy!” Beer in hand, Thor chortled from where he sat on the couch in front of the state-of-the-art entertainment system that Tony had designed himself.

“Ye olde style wise-cracking?” Tony thought himself a connoisseur of wise-cracks and battle-quips.

“Nope!” Clint looked thoroughly amused by everything even as Natasha tried not to roll her eyes.

“It was traditional, was it not?” Thor gestured at the floor-to-ceiling screen, where a younger Mel Gibson and an army of extras were mooning the other army of extras. “They are showing how unafraid they are by exposing their privates to the enemy.”

Bruce pushed his glasses up and blinked rapidly. “Well, that movie is not historically accurate in a large number of ways--”

“Except for the men in skirts,” Tony pointed out. He carried his glass of scotch over to the couch and sat down to enjoy the nostalgia of a time when Mel Gibson still had the gift of making marginally entertaining movies. 

“Kilts. Which weren’t common for Scottish men until the sixteenth century,” Natasha pointed out. She shrugged when everyone looked at her. “I had to be Scottish. Once.”

There was a pause as everyone tried to wrap their brains around _that_ little morsel of information.

“It’s delightful that so many nations have adopted the kilt,” Thor said cheerfully. “It has fallen out of fashion for Scandinavian countries in recent times though.”

“Does that mean you’ve worn a skir--kilt before?” Steve asked.

The silence that followed was broken by Clint’s face hitting the couch as that mental image planted itself firmly in his brain.

“Battle kilts were not unknown,” Thor said. “And sometimes, warriors would fight without armour to prove their bravery.”

“That’s because they didn’t have armour that was actually axe-proof,” Tony pointed out smugly. 

“But you are mortal,” Thor said--not unkindly because it was a fact that humans were vulnerable to ordinary axe-blows while ordinary Asgardians were not. “I was considering leaving my armour behind when we go after the next miscreant.”

“And wear a kilt?” Tony could not help it--he started laughing.

His jokes about kilts lasted until they were called out the next day to foil an attack on the Statue of Liberty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, during their individual debriefs, Tony Stark attributed the success of their latest mission to the fact that the villains were stunned witless by the sight of a six foot three inch tall Nordic god in a little black dress wielding a battle-hammer.

Just a little later, when asked, Agent Romanoff admitted that yes, she had taken Thor out shopping. He had noted her excellent taste in dresses and asked her for advice. No, she had not advocated that Thor wear the LBD into the fray. Yes, she had some idea of what Norse gods wore for underwear. Was that everything? _Good._

Steve Rogers felt that the defence of their most cherished symbol of independence was worth more than what other people thought about their team mate’s dress sense. And that was all he had to say about that.

Dr. Bruce Banner had no comment. But the Other Guy thought that Thor had nice legs.

Agent Barton’s debriefing had to be postponed until he could stop laughing and recover from the resulting stomach cramp. To his credit, he waited until after the mission was over before he burst out laughing.

Nick Fury had an aspirin and explained to Thor that the popular press had cameras and every frickin’ idiot had one in their phones and the whole world did not need to Tweet, Retweet, Tumblr, Blog and Plurk images of his Asgardian unmentionables in action. Cultural sensitivity be damned.

And no, he did not want to hear about the time Thor and his brother Loki cross-dressed to fool a bunch of giants.

Director Fury locked the door to his office and had a good long guffaw after it was over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The explosions in downtown Manhattan were not new. The six foot tall insect-like drones were slightly more novel, but even the most optimistic New Yorkers knew the drill by now and raced for cover as cars were lofted into the air and all the windows in a five hundred yard radius shattered with the force of yet another colossal temper tantrum.

No, what was new was Loki. Their nemesis had nimbly evaded Thor’s hammer and now stood atop the remains of a Starbucks, lobbing energy bolts at the Avengers as magically propagated drones wrecked havoc around them.

“Dammit, Thor! It’s always a game of one-up-manship with you!”

“What’s this about then?” Steve asked as they took cover behind an overturned truck. 

The dynamics of Thor and Loki’s relationship were always confusing. Even more confusing when their nemesis was currently a hot dame in a plunging v-necked gown with skirts slits right up to where modern day women usually wore their underwear.

“My brother has spoken the truth, though he does twist it for this own ends.” Thor raised his voice a little more so that it echoed off the surrounding blocks. “I am not the one who has taken the spirit of competition the furthest, brother!”

“I’m not your brother!” The annoyed alto that announced that fact did seem to back up Loki’s claims that he--or she--was not actually Thor’s _brother_.

“Um, from where I’m standing, he really doesn’t look like your _brother_ ,” Tony said from where he hovered and had a bird’s eye view of Loki’s cleavage. A view that he did not really mind at the moment--dating Pepper did not meant that he could not _look_.

“Loki’s mage-craft does give him an advantage. For not only can he wear some truly impractical battle dress that would make the most fearsome warrior cringe at the amount of skin left exposed, he can also don the spiked heels that would make your mortal Lady Gaga wince,” Thor sighed. “In his current shape, he has attained one of the highest levels of difficulty for going into battle. A handicap perhaps?”

“I’m really getting the skin left exposed part--”

“ _Tony!_ ” No less than three different voices joined together in admonishment over their shared channel.

“What? I’m appreciating our cultural differences--”

Tony’s appreciation of their cultural differences was cut short as he had to swerve to avoid the energy blasts that Loki directed his way.

“No lady-like ensemble today, Thor?” Loki taunted as he--or she--unleashed another barrage at their truck.

“The wearing of gowns is not your province alone!” Thor sprang up to divert his brother's--or whatever’s--attention away from the rest of the team.

“At least I didn’t flash everyone on Liberty Island!”

“But you would put yourself on display for whole of New York?” Mjölnir smashed through the rest of Starbucks and returned to Thor’s hand.

Loki leapt aside just in time. Changing direction in mid-air, the God(dess) of Mischief twisted about and slammed the afore-mentioned spiked heels into Thor instead, sending dust and rubble spraying in all directions.

“You’re still upset over that thing with the wedding dress!” Loki screeched. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

“Thor’s down,” Steve said into his comm and started forwards. “I’m going in.”

“You sure about that, Captain?” Clint asked as he finished off a couple more drones from atop the other Starbucks across the street. “Things are getting mighty personal just about now.”

“Gods going one-on-one,” Natasha said, taking the opportunity to reload. “It’s not a good idea to get involved when it’s about _family_.”

That gave Steve pause because Thor and Loki did have the weirdest hang-ups about family. Adopted family. Adopted family of a different species. One species might even be mono-gendered. 

And one sibling probably put the other through a wall just about then, cursing and swearing all the while as they traded barbs over the time when they cross-dressed to get Thor’s hammer back.

“At least the civilians got clear.” Clint hopped down to street-level just as the pavement caved in under the weight of two Norse gods going at it, hammer and whatever else Loki could find to throw.

“Yeah, that’s a good thing . . .” Steve glanced back at the carnage worriedly as he blocked the rain of rubble with his shield. “Tony, can you get a visual on what’s going on down there?”

“Sure thing, Captain.” Tony Stark loved his built-in infra-red vision lens. Especially when coupled with the zoom function of his suit. “Okay, they’re still moving, so nothing’s broken . . .”

“Take a lot more than that to floor one of them. But Loki’s distracted enough now--his mooks are dropping like flies,” Natasha observed. 

Most of the drones were down and the ones that were left were falling over in their tracks like puppets with their strings cut.

“Yeah, I’m beginning to get that,” Steve said as he straightened up. “Maybe Thor’ll wear Loki down eventually--”

“Guys? _Guys!_ ” Tony called. “That’s not _fighting_ going on down there. Unless you mean free-style wrestling . . . I’d say that Thor’ll wear Loki down eventually all right--but not in the way you’re thinking, Captain.”

There was a moment of silent contemplation as Steve looked at his feet, Natasha looked at nothing in particular and Clint tried to look down into the pit that had been created by the fight. This was interrupted by the loud thump of the Hulk landing nearby, which masked a little of the noise coming from below.

The Hulk’s nostrils flared once and he promptly shrank as he sensed no threat.

“I’m calling it a day now.” De-hulked and holding his pants up with his hands, Bruce turned around and walked through the debris.

“Clint, we’re going now.” Natasha had to drag Clint away. Backwards, because he was still staring.

“B-but they--”

“Should we really leave them there?” Steve wondered when he could speak again.

“It’s not up to us anymore,” Tony said, landing and clapping him on the shoulder with one armoured hand. “Not our culture, remember? Now let’s go give Fury another massive headache and call in the clean-up crews.” 

“What are you going to say at the debriefing?”

“Put my fingers into my ears and hum until they leave me alone. Why?”

“. . . Nothing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> Meandering thoughts:
> 
> While writing this, I thought of the Women Fighters in Reasonable Armor Tumblr and what Lady Loki normally wears in the comics. Of course, it probably doesn’t matter so much when you’re a virtually indestructible Norse god(dess) . . .
> 
> Belated edited for typos.


End file.
